Deep Thoughts: A Dancer's Love for their Art. (Another life - A diary entry)

In another life, I'm still walking the shadowed streets

back to my quaint apartment in the heart of Mumbai,

From my place of worship,

The only place where I'm convinced a god exists.

In this reverend place, I know nothing of the life outside the 

Bleary grey walls and the long distorted mirrors,

I know nothing other than the 

sound of the bass that shakes my very soul,

I know nothing but the sweat evading my skin and soaking my shirt until it's nothing but a mangled piece of salt-drenched cloth,

I know nothing but rhythm, but movement, but sore calves and burning lungs,

I know nothing but tranquility and peace within my heavy breaths and a mind clear of nothing but the choreography at hand.

The only thing that exists here is joy in its most docile form.

Here I find the rawest and most authentic form of bliss.

I feel euphoric with every step; I feel gay with the sound of music entering my eardrums and nothing short of contentment when performing in the center of those walls. 

When I leave, It's almost like those hours spent in the studio were simply a hallucination, too good to be true, too perfect for someone so incredibly imperfect and too happy for someone so unhappy without it.

When I leave this place, this comfort, this home, I'm faced with a life I had forgotten for those brief hours. 

I'm hit with the stress that I had procrastinated in my time away

It was my drug, my addiction and every molecule of my body felt empty without it.

It gets me high more than any substance or liquor ever could. 

But saying this makes something so pure sound impure.

That studio is my church.

The sweat coating my skin, a holy water that the demons of life cower away from,

It blesses me with the joy that art, movement and music bring together,

Dance. 

In this sanctuary, I am nothing, no one, yet I'm everything. 

I'm not quiet; I'm not shy; I’m not weak

I do not exist here; She does.

She is the strongest woman in the world. She is a specimen, a person worth admiring, a person who captures the attention of an entire room, a person who is respected, an inspiration, a rival, an intimidation.

She is everything I always thought I never would be, but longed for so desperately. 

Nothing can reach her here,

No stress, no melancholy, no rage, no envy,

 no loneliness threatening to burst open her heart from its swelling size and no care or concern for reality. 

I always thought she existed only in that studio, 

But the truth is that she lived inside of me this whole time, waiting quietly and patiently to shine through. 

She was always me. Plain, shy, insecure me. All me. All along

In another life, I'm still dancing in that studio, unaware of the course that life wishes me and tugs me towards. 

I will spend every day of my life finding a place like that, for dance is not just a mere hobby 

To give it such a common, conventional word is to strip away its power and divinity, for it is my bible,

 and I’ll follow it for the rest of my life. I will embody its lessons and continue to face life with newfound resolve.

In another life and every life after, I would choose this studio again and again and again, ensuring that every version of myself has the privilege to be blessed by the spirit of dance.